


seared into my heart

by milkvan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkvan/pseuds/milkvan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wonwoo waits for a name to appear on his wrist, not knowing that his soulmate is already seared into his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seared into my heart

**Author's Note:**

> set in an au where the soulmate's name will appear on someone's wrist in the soulmate's handwriting
> 
> (happy birthday, jeon wonwoo, my stars moon sun supernovas galaxy universe ♥♥♥)

_It’ll happen soon_ , Wonwoo’s mother had taken to say lately while tousling his brown hair fondly, a tinkle of laughter escaping her lips when his own lips pursed into a straight line, a sure sign of his exasperation. 

He never understood why his mother felt a need for such words, for he had never shown much concern over his lack of a soulmate. An undue cause of worry, he insisted every time this happened but his mother would always wave his indignant assertions away and continued, with the knowing glint in his father’s kind eyes acting as a convenient accomplice to her teasing. 

It was not like he didn’t know full well that he was the current topic of the housewives’ indulgent gossips during the hot afternoons. Or that he didn’t notice the electrified air of conversations left hanging mid-sentences when he entered the convenience store, and the way ravenous gazes drilled holes into his back, reading more gleefully into his every action than they would into the scandals of shady politicians. 

He didn’t need a soulmate, his mind persuaded him when his twenty-third birthday came and went without so much as a black dot bestowed on his wrist. Why pine for a stranger when he already has a family who loves and supports him in everything he does? What can a soulmate do that Soonyoung and Mingyu haven’t already done in all the years they have known him? (As much as he can barely tolerate their noisy boisterousness sometimes, he’s thankful for everything the two have done for him and the close bond they have built ever since their childhood. … Not that he would ever be caught admitting this to them because he’s sure they would never let him live this down if they were to know of his true sentiments.)

Even when he’s cooped in the house with a mug of coffee on a rainy day or sunny days spent under the shade of the huge oak tree, he always found a much more agreeable companionship in books, especially those that filled him with a sense of wonder and love for the worlds so different from his own. 

So when Soonyoung shyly pulled the sleeve of his sweater away to reveal black ink inscribing the name of a certain _Lee Seokmin_ across his wrist, why did dread first seize Wonwoo’s heart, leaving him breathless and speechless before the wave of elation for a dear friend finally washed over him as he pulled the smaller one into a tight embrace? (Of course, his soft scoffs went ignored when Soonyoung later complained to Mingyu about his tears soaking through the woolen sweater but conveniently forgot to mention the mix of snot and tears left on his cotton shirt too.)

Lee Seokmin turned out to be equally warm-hearted and lively as Soonyoung, with eyes diminishing to crescent-moon slits of tenderness and his face perpetually brightened up by brilliant grins, full of teeth and hearty laughter bursting through like fresh water gushing over the banks of a hot spring. Nobody was surprised when the tip of Soonyoung’s ears turned glaringly red, the blush spreading to his cheeks and staying there throughout their first meeting, and the exchange of nauseatingly starry-eyed gazes between the two were obvious signs of the soulmates’ mutual feelings. 

Wonwoo’s happiness for Soonyoung was genuine and he was heartened that from now on, there is someone who loves his dear friend wholly and ardently more than any of Soonyoung’s friends and family could do; for that is the unbreakable bond between soulmates, the completeness of the love two individuals coming together have for each other. But beneath the smiles and the gladness, he didn’t understand the sense of loneliness seeping into the cracks of his heart, didn’t like the fear curdling in his stomach making him sick and his palms slick with sweat. 

When Seokmin made a clever pun and Soonyoung giggled behind the shield of stubby fingers, he straightened up and willed the wrecking fear away from himself, his head thrown back and his arm raised to muffle the string of hysterical laughter. Seated beside him, Mingyu guffawed loudly with large hands clapping at the sheer wittiness before one of the long arm dropped around his shoulder (at which Seokmin raised an eyebrow for reasons he did not know of) and the unblemished skin of the other’s wrist peeked out from below the cuff of Mingyu’s shirt. 

The younger one was the last of his friends without a soulmate and to be brutally honest, Wonwoo wasn’t surprised; it probably takes a terrible patient and composed person to be able to tolerate Mingyu’s incessant nagging and the many accidents waiting to happen, all because the boy could never keep his long limbs in control. 

Whatever reasons the universe was keeping their soulmates away from the both of them, Wonwoo didn’t think that lacking a soulmate at his age was that bad a deal – after all, he still had Mingyu to keep him company and to hold his hand. 

(Later at night, as he lay under the covers with no one to put on a strong front for and nothing to shield him from his rawest thoughts, he could finally admit to himself that he feared getting left behind by everyone he loves. 

Most of all, he dreaded the day when Mingyu leaves him for a name, imprinted in thin black ink across the span of golden-brown tanned skin.)

 

 

True to the words and prayers of Wonwoo’s mother, it does happen but not in a way he would have ever expected or imagined.

 

 

Springtime arrives in its usual fashion, driving the dreary white out of the city’s landscape and replacing it with the blossoming colors of life and a sprinkle of shiny newness in everything, as if the gods of ancient times had woken up just to paint the city anew with the magic of bright colors.

The nights of the new season still retain winter’s chilliness, the kind of cold that makes it hard for Wonwoo to get a good night sleep, even with all the duvets and blankets his younger brother had kindly piled on top of him. Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of the red hoodie (which he might or might not have stolen from Mingyu months ago), he sighs contently as warmth returns into his skin and he’s about to slip into dreamland when the repeated hard thumps echoing around the room thrust him back into wakefulness.

He’s no longer at the age when he could cower at the incredulous existence of ghosts and imaginary monsters under the bed but at the sight of tiny objects hitting against the windowpane, his heart still does a backflip. Biting down hard on his lower lip with his heart thumping wildly at the back of his throat, he continues to lie in bed while small pebbles relentlessly- 

Wait.

Flying pebbles don’t exactly fit into the plans of a sinister and malevolent spirit but they do exceptionally well in the shenanigans of rowdy teenagers, whose better judgement have most probably been stripped away with every sip of alcohol. 

Sure enough, when he shuffles to the window and squints down through the half-darkness, he can make out a figure, dressed in a thick overcoat and a baseball cap standing in his mother’s garden. The figure’s arm hangs in the air before releasing the pebble in his fist but fortunately, Wonwoo is quick enough to duck and it lands in a far corner of the room with a loud thud. 

“Wonwoo-hyung, is that you?!” 

Now, he is pretty sure that the other really meant to whisper but as everything went with Kim Mingyu, the words come out, instead, in an urgent yell that could have woken the whole neighborhood up. Not for the first time, he wonders whether Mingyu may have accidentally swallowed a microphone without him knowing; stranger things have happened with that boy, whose very existence is entirely made up of exclamation marks, puppy grins and flailing long limbs (with a tender heart in the middle of it all). 

“What are you doing here?” His deadpan voice is reflective of his expression because he really doesn’t appreciate standing in the biting night chill when he should be cocooned in the warm packet of his blankets on the bed. Also, he might have felt a twinge of concern for the younger one, who is about to catch a cold if he continues to be out in the open cold. “You’re stepping on my mother’s roses. She’s going to kill you in the morning.” 

Mingyu has the audacity to scoff in reply. A(n adorable) sneeze escapes from him then but it does nothing to tone his self-satisfaction down, judging from the way smugness drips from his boyish grin as he taunts. “Nah, she adores me.”

And Wonwoo knows it’s true. If there’s a person his mother loves and adores more than anyone in the world, other than her husband and two sons, it could very well be Kim Mingyu. It’s disgusting how the younger one can simply get away with literally everything by effortlessly flashing a winsome smile – a classic example of how the universe is just plain unfair, Wonwoo reckons. 

“Hyung, normally I wouldn’t mind standing here, looking up at your beautiful face like I’m Romeo and you’re a very grumpy Juliet, kinda romantic when you think about it, right? But it’s awfully cold tonight so can I please come in?” A tiny sneeze sounds in the garden, followed by a sniff, and Wonwoo’s heart clenches with worry as he imagines Mingyu’s nose turning a slight red (it’s also incredibly unfair how he constantly feels an impulse to mother the younger one).

“I also have something to show you, hyung! It’s important!” The volume and the pitch of Mingyu’s voice rise with every word he utters; soon he will be able to wake up the whole town, no doubt. 

At the same time, Wonwoo can’t help the curiosity creeping up his arms, like goosebumps on his arm induced by the coldness. Sure, there were nights when the stress of finals was too much for them both to handle and the quest for onion rings (or other similar unhealthy food) became an easy excuse for them to drive across the city at ungodly hours, letting the fresh air and the emptiness of the highways soothe their anxiety away. But Mingyu turning up at his house so late at night, driven by a silent urgency that only the younger one can feel? 

This is new. 

And alarming.

“The key is in the usual place, you know that.” That is all he needs to say to get Mingyu scrambling for the key hidden under the doormat, but not before flashing a thumbs-up and beaming a relieved and grateful smile at him, so bright that it could rival the half-moon’s luminance. 

A light breeze enters through the open window, playing with his soft brown hair as he waits and wonders what all this is about. Tonight seems different from other nights – something is shifting behind the curtains of the drifting clouds, behind every ticking of the clock and in the way his heart expands and contracts acutely in his chest. These are minute differences, so small that they remain inconsequential and unseen to the naked eye, but isn’t it true that it is the tiny grains of sands that make up the sandy shore? 

On this spring night, he knows, _feels_ , understands that from the moment the first pebble was released from Mingyu’s fist, nothing will ever be the same again. For Mingyu and for him. 

Wispy grey clouds move away and the moon finally appears in all her brilliance, the dust of her shine falling around him and he stands stock-still in the rectangular beam of light, realizing that the younger one’s fingers were restlessly playing with the cuffs of the overcoat earlier. Soonyoung did exactly the same thing, his fingers fidgeting with the hems of his woolen sweater as he nervously stuttered and struggled with his words before he finally gave up and pulled his sleeve away-

 _Oh_.

Never the one to jump to baseless assumptions, Wonwoo takes in a deep breath to calm his nerves and strives to keep his mind from wandering near that one dreadful thought. But it’s hard not to draw the obvious conclusion when it is staring so hard in his face, equally hard to pretend that his heart isn’t thudding painfully when Mingyu’s husky voice sounds behind him and long arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer to the other’s body. 

His limbs hang lifeless at his sides as Mingyu continues to hold him, the natural scent of the younger one overpowering and smothering him, as if the room is closing in and stifling the air around him. The wintry cold lingers around his closed fists and his neck but his lungs still sting with the lack of sweet fresh air, when all he can feel is the radiance of Mingyu’s palpable happiness slowly suffocating him. 

Still, he steadies his voice and takes care to school his countenance into one he knows can always fool the other. (At times, even he himself is amazed at how well he has perfected the art of pretending that everything was fine.) 

“Congratulations, I wish you a happy life with your soulmate from now on.” 

He does not understand where the sharp cadence attached to his words came from but he realizes a moment too late how accusatory and piercing his voice must have sounded to Mingyu, when the arms previously caging him flinch and falls away. Whirling around, he is not only confronted by the wrenching look of crestfallenness on the younger one’s face, but also the simmer of anger he has never known to seethe silently under his apathetic exterior. 

Mingyu’s eyes narrow in razor-edged suspicion as he takes a step back and all Wonwoo can give in reply was a snort of derision, a cruel mocking sound that echoes too loudly in the quietness of the room. Both refuse to back down, their eyes hardening to penetrating glares that seem to magnify the distance between their rising and falling chests.

The glowering match between the two silly boys might have continued till the break of dawn, if not for Wonwoo’s eyes tearing up and forcing him to tear them away from Mingyu in a crushing defeat, his fists stubbornly jammed into the hoodie’s pockets to keep them from quivering. The younger one also lowers his gaze to the carpeted ground for a moment before looking up with a fierceness only he dares to display in front of Wonwoo, his lips thinning into sneering lines as the question slips out of it. 

“Hyung, aren’t you curious as to who my soulmate is?”

Of course Wonwoo knows this is nothing but a foolish challenge to deny everything that was implied in the question, but it still feels like a slap to his face, stinging his cheeks red with humiliation at the fact that the cocky asshole can perceive something he have been trying to suppress for the longest time. His throat burns with the need to assert that he is definitely not some book Mingyu can just pick up and toss onto the coffee table when the interest has run out, and the bare knuckles of his tight fists turn white with the overwhelming urge to land a heavy blow, anything to wipe the awful smirk off the other’s face. But here he is, his own pathetic cowardice overriding all the indignation swirling within him, so much so that his limbs and tongue seem dulled by it. Like a forgotten statue left abandoned under the ancient moon, his only hope is that his muted inaction passes off as a semblance of dignity. 

The only other person in the room knows that his silence is anything but dignified - this much is clear from the way Mingyu takes a bold step towards him, the arrogant lines edging around the smirk gone and the hardened glare of the brown eyes’ softening to a tender glow. Exhausted from the emotions yanking at the seams of his heart, he can only release a shaky breath, even as Mingyu comes closer and he can feel the grip on his wrist coaxing it out of the hoodie, the gentle fingers pushing the sleeve away. 

“Hyung, don’t you want to know who _your_ soulmate is?”

“J-Just what are you talking about now?”

There is no reason why Wonwoo should lose his cool, no reason why his words are spluttering like the faulty engines of an aircraft swooping away something important within him. But they do and he hates how even in the dim luminance of the moon, a small smile can still be seen on Mingyu’s face – one full of affection and adoration that is always somehow directed at him.

“You know there’s no one-” 

No one knows that this will be how things end: a simple statement uttered by Mingyu too confidently, as if nothing rings more truth in the universe than the following words. 

“There’s no one else but me.” 

No one also knows that this will be how they begin anew: a name borne on the span of fair skin, etched across Wonwoo’s wrist in a neat line of tiny black characters. 

“ _Kim Mingyu._ ”

The three crystallized syllables drop around his feet, their fragments piercing the murky silence following the revelation, and he is surprised by his own quavering voice whispering the name of his soulmate – the same person he has already grown to love so many years ago, in the hidden nooks and crannies of his tiny heart. 

The closeness between their bodies allows him to hear the relief and the gladness in Mingyu’s soft chuckle, the hot puff of air from it seeping through his skin like the warmest ray of sunshine on a summer day. “So hyung, are you sure you don’t want to know who my soulmate is?”

Even before he can say a word in reply, the overcoat is already stripped off, dropping behind Mingyu soundlessly as the midnight-blue of the sweater’s sleeve gives way to sun-kissed skin. At the sight of the name on the other’s wrist, black and cramped characters of his own handwriting contrasting with the tone of golden-brown tan, Wonwoo’s heart trips unsteadily, and he would have physically too if the younger one hasn’t caught him with an arm hooked around his waist. 

When Mingyu speaks again, his flittering gazes and soft voice reveal the same doubts and hesitations as their sandbox days – when he was five, Wonwoo six and they were still too achingly shy to say a simple “hello”. 

“I kept waiting for the name to appear … and then I stopped because it scared me how much I didn’t want you to leave, how much I didn’t want to leave you. But now that I think about it … there really can be no one else-”

“No one else but me.” 

There is a quiet sense of confidence and assurance accompanying the words leaving through Wonwoo’s lips, and he is sure the same could be said about the words spoken by Mingyu earlier. His smile is genuine, wider and brighter than it could ever be, as the fine grains of the moon’s brilliance settle around them and envelope them in a radiant glow of blissfulness. Framed in the soft light of the joyous moment, the boyish grin on Mingyu’s face is iridescent – a spark of exuberance and tenderness that can never be adequately captured by the camera but he doesn’t need one to learn the shifting colors and shadows of the other’s delight. It is already ingrained in his heart, mind and soul, like an ever-present piece of cheerful azure amidst the greyest and gloomiest skies. 

It feels natural to lie in bed with Mingyu next to him, to let the younger one throw long arms around his smaller frame, to burrow in the heat of their tangled bodies, his nose nuzzling against the other’s collarbone. They have gone to sleep holding each other a million times over the years, the familiarity of skin brushing against skin becoming a second nature, the steady breaths of the other sinking into their bones and lungs, a wistful sigh coiling around the ribbons tying their souls together. 

But tonight in Wonwoo’s heart, there begins a blossoming happiness that deepens with every breath he takes, manifesting a trail of flushing pink and red on his skin in the places Mingyu’s fingers leave tender touches and heated caresses. The coldness which took hold of his body earlier melts in the warmth of Mingyu’s embrace and he’s more than appreciative that his soulmate actually makes a pretty good human shield from the wintry frostiness. 

For the first time in weeks, he feels that spring has truly descended and he no longer has to worry about autumn and winter leaving their cold claws on him. 

He continues to cling to Mingyu, his fingers curling into the fabric of the midnight-blue sweater before travelling down to the wrist where his name sits just below the tiny beating pulse. Obviously still not asleep and amused by Wonwoo’s fascination of his written name on the wrist, Mingyu intertwines their fingers together, large fingers dwarfing his, and leaves a gentle kiss on the back of his hand. Pulse beating against pulse in a synchronized rhythm, name nestling against name – these are reminders that this isn’t a dream or a joke played on him. Soulmates are for life and as long as Mingyu’s pulse continues to drum, his name will never fade away; vice versa, from now on till the moment he takes his last breath, the three characters “ _Kim Mingyu_ ” is a bracelet around his wrist, locking him in a promise of love and devotion.

Of course when it comes to the little details, he still doesn’t know what being soulmates actually entails for the both of them. But it’s okay, there's no rush in this; after all, they have each other and the rest of their lives together to figure it out.

(“Isn’t this my hoodie you’re wearing?”

“… No.”

“Okay. … Hyung? What’s mine is yours anyway.”)

**Author's Note:**

> took me two months to finish this ugh and i officially have lost my ability to drabble because this was supposed to be a drabble ahaha 
> 
> [YELLS FROM THE ROOFTOP] I LOVE BEST-FRIENDS-TURNED-LOVERS SO MUCH. 
> 
> feel free to let me know of any mistakes i've made! :)


End file.
